Ignited (32 page)

He went back to the door and knocked gain, more forcefully this time.

“Come on, Mom …,” he muttered to himself, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet.

Finally, the door swung open.

His mother’s face was a mask, letting no trace of emotion through.

“Henry,” she said, her tone cool. She did not move away from the doorway, so he couldn’t get in. “This isn’t a good time.”

He frowned. “I just need ten minutes.”

With a heavy sigh, she let him in.

Once he was over the threshold, she took off, walking briskly through the foyer and into the sitting room. Henry followed behind, trying not to look as awkward as he felt. His mother sat down on the couch, sinking into the red velvet cushions, and he perched on the chair opposite. Everything looked as it always had. Nothing had changed for as long as Henry could remember. The place was more a shrine than a house.

“Do you want something to drink?” Louise asked, tone brisk.

Henry shook his head. “No, thank you.”

She stared at him. There was nothing blatantly hostile in her gaze, but he couldn’t exactly term it friendly, either. Her eyes were blank, as if she were looking at nothing, rather than her own son. Henry’s heart ached. Mrs. McClure was right. He wasn’t sure why he had put himself through this, throughout the years.

He thought of Ruth, of the ring. This was the last time. No more.

“Supper isn’t ready yet,” his mother said, interrupting his thoughts. “It isn’t Tuesday, so I didn’t expect you.” She started to get to her feet. “Maybe this can wait until then.”

“No, wait. I—I have something I need to talk to you about.” The nerves were a jumble in Henry’s stomach, but he resisted the urge to fidget in his seat. His mother hated fidgeting. “I’ve met someone. A woman, I mean. And I’ve—I’ve fallen in love.”

Louise sat up. “So the rumors are true, then. About you living with some girl?”

“What? No.” He shook his head. “I mean, yes, but it’s not like—her father is abusive, and she needed to get out—”

“Please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I was not born yesterday. What is it, then? Is she in trouble? Do you need money?”

In trouble
? Henry felt his eyes bulge out of his head. “What?
No
! I just want—I want to propose to her. I want the family ring.”

Louise’s hand flew to her throat. She fingered the chain there. The ring, Henry assumed, was hidden beneath her shirt, safely tucked away. After a moment of silence, his mother said, “So she
is
in trouble.”

“Ruth is not with child, Mother.” The words came out more frustrated than Henry had intended. “That has nothing at all to do with this. I want to marry Ruth because I love her. Granddad said the ring had been passed down on my father’s side for generations, and that I should have it.”

“I wish your grandfather would discuss these things with me first,” Louise muttered bitterly. She shook her head, quick and decisive. “No. I won’t do it. I will not give up the Porter family ring to some
hussy
—”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Henry said, gritting the words out between clenched teeth.

Louise stood abruptly and stalked away. She let out a breath, regaining her calm, cool exterior. “No girl worth anything would willingly move in with a man until he had married her.”

“If Ruth believed that, she’d be dead by now.”

The words made his mother freeze. She gave him a long, critical look. “Fine. Fine, then. You can have the ring,” she paused, and Henry’s heart leapt. “But if, and only if, I meet her and approve of her.”

It was a trap, and an obvious one. Henry wasn’t stupid. His mother would latch on to any excuse to hate Ruth. But he had faith in Ruth, in the power of her goodness. Maybe Louise Porter would never like him, but Ruth—Ruth was the best person in the world. If anyone could win over his mother, it was her.

“Fine.” He said. “We’ll stop by tomorrow.”

Ruth’s palm was slick in his own, but it was the only way she betrayed her nervousness. Her face was still, calm. She was in a pink dress June had given her, having let the hem down so it was a little longer. Her hair fell in soft waves, and she kept it neatly pushed back behind her ears. When she noticed Henry staring, she flashed him a smile and squeezed his hand.

“It’ll be fine,” she said, as they made it up the porch steps. “No matter what happens.”

There was something steadying about her eyes on him. “I believe you.”

Henry felt his insides twist as he knocked on the front door. His knuckles barely touched the wood before it was flung open, and his mother was standing there.

She looked—different.

Her light hair was up in a complicated knot, showing off the diamonds dangling from her ears. Her eyes were painted a smoky brown that made her blue eyes pop. Her dress, a deep burgundy, flared at the waist and made her look tiny. She stood back and ushered them inside, something dangerous in her expression. Anticipation made Henry feel jittery.

She’d never made this sort of effort before. Was she trying to make Ruth feel under-dressed, uncomfortable? He peeked at Ruth and was relieved to see no trace of anxiety, only a gentle smile plastered on her face. It wasn’t the most sincere smile he’d ever seen Ruth give, but it was all he could ask for, given the situation.

“You must be Ruth,” said Louise, holding out a limp hand.

Ruth reached out to shake Louise’s hand, even though the grip was awkward. “Yes. Thank you for inviting me into your home.”

His mother’s eyebrows climbed toward her hairline, but she didn’t seem displeased. She sniffed, “Dinner’s not quite ready yet.” With a turn, she flounced down the hall to the dining room. Henry tugged at Ruth’s hand, and they made their way side by side.

The table was set up with his mother’s best china, a wedding present she had only pulled out a handful of times as long as Henry could remember. The plates were so thin and delicate, he was afraid to touch them. Ruth stared at the multitude of forks arrayed next to the plates with a bewildered expression, and he rubbed his thumb across her knuckles as reassurance. The candles flickered in the dim light of the room. Louise had pulled out all the stops.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and remembering the reason he was here: Ruth. It was all for her, for the ring he wanted to give her.

Louise settled in one of the empty chairs, her posture ramrod straight. Henry sank into the open seat across from her, Ruth beside him.

“So, Ruth.” Her tone was casual, but Henry could hear the barbs and sharp edges, hiding just out of sight. “Tell me about yourself.”

“I’m twenty three,” Ruth said, sounding more self-possessed than he could have hoped for. There was no tremor in her voice, no fear. Love surged through him, bowled over by her strength and her poise. When she looked away, smiling slightly, his mouth stretched into a matching grin. “I’m not entirely sure what you’d like to hear about me. I like to sing, I enjoy sewing.”

Louise produced a cigarette and lighter from nowhere. She lit it and took a short drag, letting the smoke out of her lungs. As she breathed out, she asked, “How did you meet my son?”

Ruth glanced at Henry, obviously unsure if she should mention their first introduction. He cleared his throat. “We actually met by chance at the general store, and then we were paired up to work together at the cooperative church fundraiser a few days later.”

“The fundraiser?” Louise tilted her head to the side. “But—that was a few weeks ago. Not even a month.”

Henry tensed. “It’s been enough time. More than enough.”

His mother gave him an impatient look. “A month, Henry. Is this the kind of rational decision making I raised you to have? I was going to try, I really was. Lord knows I can do without another lecture from your grandfather. But this”—she waved a hand between the two of them—“is clearly a mistake.”

Anger bubbled up in Henry’s stomach, turning his insides acidic. “Now, wait a minute—”

“Henry, let me.” Ruth put a hand on his knee, stilling him, and then turned to address Louise. “Mrs. Porter, I know it hasn’t been long, and I understand your reservations, but—”

“I’m not interested.” Louise stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray on the table, grinding it down. She looked back to her son. “Wake up, Henry. You’re so naïve. It’s clear she wants something—money, probably. I doubt that a word of what she told you is true.”

Ruth went pale, and then abruptly, red.

She couldn’t go off—not here, not now. His mother would tell everyone just to hurt Ruth.

“Every word Ruth has ever spoken to me has been true,” he said, voice low and even. He felt focused, sharp. His words came out crisp and quiet, and the entire room went silent to hear him better. “She is one hundred times the woman you’ll ever be because despite everything she’s been through, she still has the capacity to love and to forgive, to grow from her experiences. She’s constantly moving forward, and you’re stuck in the past.”

Louise clutched at her neck, bringing the chain out from under her dress. The ring dangled there, sparkling in the light. Beside him, Ruth bit back a gasp.

“I will not see your father’s ring on her finger. I won’t,” she spat, venomous.

Henry processed what she’d said and then burst into laughter. He wasn’t sure where it was coming from—there was some kind of lightness rising inside of him, making him sit straighter, prouder. Ruth put a hand on his shoulder, and he reached up to pat it. His laughs died down, and he shook his head. “I just realized,” he said. “I don’t care.”

“What do you mean, you don’t
care
?” Louise barked, standing up to stalk away from the table. “That was the whole reason for this charade in the first place!”

“I don’t care anymore.” 

His mother froze, listening without turning. 

“I’m done. I’m done trying to win you over, done taking your jibes for Granddad’s sake. Ruth once told me that you don’t choose your family, but I think she’s wrong.” He stood up and held his hand out, smiling down at Ruth as she grabbed it with her own and stood beside him. “You don’t choose your relatives, but you can certainly choose your family. And I choose her.”

Ruth dropped his hand, but only so she could slide her fingers around his arm. She felt so good there, so right. This was what he had always wanted: unconditional love. And he’d found it.

“We’re going now,” Henry said. Ruth threaded her arm more fully through his and they turned to leave the fancy table behind.

His mother stomped behind them, her voice heavy with anger and tears. “Henry, you listen to me. You walk out the door and you’ll never get this ring. You’ll never get this house. You’ll never get anything!”

Henry paused and turned back. She looked different than he had ever seen her, her hair falling out, her expression desperate—cracks in her normally perfect façade. He felt sad for her, in some small, distant way. The ring, the house—those were the things she’d chosen to love. How lonely.

He shook his head. “I don’t want anything from you.”

When he looked at Ruth, she was beaming at him, brighter than the sun.

“Let’s get out of here, shall we?” he asked.

She leaned into his arm. “That sounds perfect.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Ruth

“You were going to get a
ring
?”

Ruth held the words in until they had gotten to the end of the block, half-running the whole way. Henry had stood up to his mother, had rejected everything—and for
her
. His hand was tight around hers, and he looked half-drunk and giddy in the sunset. His hair was a mess, and his eyes shined, and she loved him so completely, she could hardly breathe.

“I’m
still
going to get a ring,” he corrected, laughing. She didn’t know why, but she joined in. They kept the pace up as they moved off the road, cutting the shortest path to the town square below. “Just not
that
ring.”

“You didn’t tell me!”

“It was
supposed
to be a surprise.” He tugged her close, pressed a kiss against her temple, and she warmed all over at the feeling. “I’m going to find the most beautiful ring in the world, and when you least expect it, I’m going to give it to you.”

Their pace slowed as they got closer to town. There was no reason to avoid it, she knew, but she still didn’t feel entirely comfortable. Henry seemed to sense that, steering them away from the most direct route and onto the road that eventually lead to Aspenwood. She rested her head on his upper arm, not quite able to reach his shoulder, and sighed happily.

Henry had chosen her, had called her his family. And it was true: He
was
her family now. The only family that mattered.

“You don’t have to get me anything,” she murmured, still feeling the woozy rush of adrenaline. “I only want you.”

He grinned down at her. “See, that only makes me want to spoil you more.”

She sighed. “Well, if you
insist
.”

That startled another laugh out of him, and soon they were giggling again. Everything felt so suddenly perfect. Even if she still feared her father, her powers, the judgment of the town—she could handle it because Henry would be beside her, rooting for her, loving her. It made a girl feel brave, that kind of love. She knew it was rare, and that what they had was special.

Nothing was going to ever tear them apart.

“When we get home,” Henry declared, “I am going to make you the biggest, most delicious meal you’ve ever eaten.”

Ruth smirked at him. “I have a better idea.”

They tumbled through the front door, mouths hot and wanting, hands everywhere. Every few steps, Henry would stop and kiss her senseless, her mind going cloudy with lust. They had just made it to the stairs leading to the bedroom when Henry started attacking her clothing. He seemed determined to rid her of every stitch she wore as they went, attacking the zipper of her dress on the first step, skimming her slip over her head on the second, his fingertips dipping into her panties on the third.